So I run to the Parker Safeway at lunchtime today to pick up a few things, and what should I behold on my way out but an able-bodied man getting out of this Mercedes. After he parked it in a handicapped space and failed to display a handicapped placard.

I don't give a good goddamn what kind of vehicle you drive. To quote my hero George Takei, "You, sir, are a total douchebag."

Indeed I am. And I'm looking forward to it, even though I'm only taking tomorrow and Monday off. Short vacations refresh the mind and soul, and avoid unfortunate headlines such as "Engineer kills Sales Team and Customer, Followed by Self in Maniacal Shooting Spree."

So I'm a busy human today, trying to get my professional obligations under control so that I may go skipping through the vacation daisies with an easy mind. Enjoy your Thursday, Hot Chicks and Smart Men.

Today, at the inadvertent suggestion of a Facebook friend, I sent scathing letters to both my Senators and my Representative. Yes, I've crawled out of the Pit of Despair.

Scathing because there is no excuse for what is currently going on in Washington. None. The Republicans are behaving like recalcitrant children, no better than a two year old screaming "mine, mine, mine!" when faced with the revelation that no, you cannot in fact always have your way. The Democrats are behaving like spineless little douchebags who are selling out their constituents left and right. Newsflash, Dems: The Republicans will not compromise. They've sold out to the Tea Baggers and the big contributors, and continuing to give in on their completely unreasonable demands will do nothing other than allowing GE and Exxon/Mobil to laugh all the way to the bank.

So I manned my keyboard, and eviscerated everyone. While I obviously think the Republicans' behavior is far worse than the Democrats, I let them ALL have it. The Republicans are treasonous assbags, whose dedication to their corporate and teabagging masters will burn the whole world as long as they get their way. The Democrats are their own worst enemy, 97 pound weaklings with no backbone who allow the Republicans to control the message instead of calling them out publicly, and allowing the President to take the heat for what is in fact a failure of Congress.

Every time I hear some privileged white person say that we live in a world that is beyond racism, beyond institutional bigotry, and we can all now skip through the Daisies in our new, colorblind world, I just want to heave. Preferably all over their shoes. Because they're wrong, wrong, wrong.

Today's reminder of just how wrong they are comes from Pine Bluff, Arkansas, where young Kimberly Wimberly graduated from high school this year. Ms. Wimberly is apparently driven, smart, works hard, and has the highest GPA in her graduating class. But apparently that's not good enough if you're also black, female, and a young mother. The principal of the school, one Darrell Thompson, decided that Ms. Wimberly would share the honor with another student who was white, and had a lower GPA.

Ms. Wimberly's mother attempted to speak to the school Superintendent about the issue, but was denied the opportunity on a technicality.

Now, let me be clear - I don't know why Ms. Wimberly was denied the opportunity to be the school's single Valedictorian. Perhaps the principal had some perfectly defensible reason for the decision - that's for the court to decide. But it does appear that a contributing factor in the decision was Ms. Wimberly's race, with her parental status possibly being an additional issue. In my opinion, the fact that Ms. Wmberly apparently has a child makes her academic accomplishments more incredible and admirable, more worthy of respect and recognition. But then, I'm not Principal Thompson, who evidently has a different opinion.

I certainly don't have all details, but it appears to me that Ms. Wimberly is guilty of Excelling While Black. And if it turns out that Ms. Wimberly was denied singular honors because good, Christian girls don't have kids in High School, I really will heave on Principal Darrell Thompson's shoes. With extreme prejudice.____________Fling of the Mortarboard to ntsc358, aka Warner, who has a knack for giving me hypertension.

How can anyone look at this and still think that the Democrats are the ones who are fiscally irresponsible? Seriously, people - lay down your crack pipes, examine the FACTS, and have an informed opinion for a change!

I suspect, of course, that the difference is in who benefits - the Bush/Republican beneficiaries are all powerful, rich and corporate, while the Obama/Democratic beneficiaries are, you know, the PEOPLE. And you can guess who's spinning the data.

Work is making me more than a bit crabby and snotty today, which sucks. So I'm grateful to John Scalzi, who pointed me towards photos of gay and lesbian couples who finally have the right to marry in New York, thanks to certain members of the Republican party who stood up and were counted. Here's my favorite, of Myron Levine (center, L) and Philip Zinderman who are captured celebrating after being married outside the Manhattan City Clerk's office July 24, 2011. They have been together for 51 years.

51 years, and now they have the right to be acknowledged as partners in life and love. Congratulations, gentlemen, to you to all those who celebrated yesterday and in the future.

Today's Free Shit Friday item is a pair of black Dansko Rachel shoes, size 39, worn only one time. Worn only one time because (evidently) I wear a 39 in Danskos that are flat, but a 38 in styles that have heels.

You know, the older I get, the more I'm coming to value transparency in my life. I don't like to keep secrets - they give me stress, and hiding events or aspects of my life from others does nothing to promote my own growth as a human being.

Each event or aspect of my life, good, bad or indifferent, has helped to shape who I am. Every decision I've made, good, bad or indifferent, has taken me down a path that has led me here, to the person I am. If I don't own those events and decisions, I deny myself.

Becoming the person I am today was a hard-won victory. The journey was intense, and full of heartache, and I won't cheapen that work by rewriting my own history to make myself or others look better.

If you’re not making mistakes, you’re not trying. And sometimes, those mistakes are doozies. Accept that people can twist their lives into knots, and help them untie them. There are too many people in this world who only want to make those knots into nooses, and that’s just not right.

Don’t tell me who you were. Tell me who you are.

Just so.I still have regrets about certain decisions I've made over the years, but I'm over the guilt.

It's no secret that I place tremendous value on intellectual pursuits. I love to learn, and have enormous respect for people who exceed my own intellectual abilities - and, I'm embarrassed to admit, a certain amount of contempt for those who don't. The scariest thing I can imagine is losing my ability to think effectively due to disease or injury. And I totally don't get recreational pursuits that would actively put my brain's health in jeopardy.

Which is why I don't really get chronic marijuana use as a recreational drug, although on a political basis I think it should be legal. According to the National Institute on Drug Abuse,

Research has shown that, in chronic users, marijuana's adverse impact on learning and memory can last for days or weeks after the acute effects of the drug wear off. As a result, someone who smokes marijuana every day may be functioning at a suboptimal intellectual level all of the time.

So basically, smoking pot on a daily basis doesn't just make you stupid while you're high - it makes you stupid all the time.

I've never really liked smoking pot. When I was a teen, it gave me horrifying headaches, and once I joined the Navy, the decision was pretty much made for me. Once I got out, I couldn't see the point. So in spite of my addictive personality, I dodged that particular bullet.

While I realize that alcohol can also have detrimental effects on the brain, my investigation of the research does not imply that it makes you stupid all the time, even if you drink every day in moderation. Plus, alcohol is legal, so you don't have to worry about getting arrested, or a ticket, or whatever the punishment is in your neck of the woods just by virtue of possessing some.

Even if I hadn't already decided that smoking pot wasn't for me, I think this information would convince me that doing so is just a bad, bad idea, given what I value. I've been around people who smoke pot every day, and I have to say, on an anecdotal basis, ZOMGWTFBBQ, THAT RESEARCH IS RIGHT ON THE MONEY. Reinforcing the stoopid, one bowl at a time. Yeah. Good luck with that - I'll stick with my 3.2%.

I have despair because now, in my middle age, after spending half a lifetime trying to be a conscientious, informed citizen and voter, I finally realize that it just doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter who you vote for. Whoever wins will sell out your interests, and the interests of the entire nation, for their own political gain. It doesn't matter what direction the American public wants for our nation - the politicians will suit themselves, to the detriment of all but those who grease their palms and maintain their power.

Need proof? How about the fact that the vast majority of Americans - including Republicans - think that raising taxes on those families that earn more than $250K a year is a good idea. And yet, those who supposedly represent our interests aren't making that happen, and in fact, are fighting the idea tooth and nail. The Red Herring for this position is that taxing the rich will damage the economy (yeah, right), but I think we all know the real reason is because politicians don't want to gore their own oxes. There aren't many middle-class families that can afford to influence pedal in the Halls of Congress - so they're disregarded.

Need more proof? How about the continuance of subsidies for fossil fuel energy sources? I mean, seriously - who thinks that Exxon Mobil needs subsidies in order to survive? Their first quarter profits enjoyed a 69% increase over the same time last year. But they need the government to give them a helping hand? A helping hand that exceeds the help given to green fuel sources? Bitch, please. But I think we all know that the government's coffers aren't going to close to the energy business in my lifetime. To do so would make enemies of organizations who have tens of millions of dollars available for their lobbying efforts, and their PAC's and their direct donations. Can't upset that boat, nosirree.

The expiry of the Bush tax cuts for the rich, the poo-flinging circus of the debt ceiling "negotiations," the refusal of our regulatory commissions to rein in derivative trading and other financial shenanigans that result in the rich getting richer at taxpayer expense, the bending over of consumers to predatory lenders, the list goes on and on and on. All of these events are indicative of the malaise that permeates our political process. We, the people, just don't matter in this utterly corrupt process, and we're fooling ourselves if we think we do.

I don't know if this disregard has always been the case in American politics, or if this is something that has crept in in the last 100 years. In either case, I think it's disgusting, and I despair for our nation, and for the subversion of our Constitution in the service of the rich and powerful. E Pluribus Unum. Yeah, right.

I have a tendency towards being a snob. I realize that it's not a very endearing quality, and I do try to keep it under control. But this is a place where I try to be honest with myself - and there it is.

And one of the things I've come to realize is that being a snob doesn't necessarily make me a supercilious bitch (although it doesn't exclude it, either). There are times when looking down my nose at certain elements of humanity is absolutely the right thing to do, and is justified by their behavior.

These are some things about which I'm snobbish. If you indulge in them, it's very likely that I will, in fact, think I'm better than you. And there's a very good chance I can defend that position effectively, too.

You think your limited experience is indicative of all the world has to offer. The world is a big place. If you open your mind to the wonders and people therein, you might see that while your little corner may be fabulous, it's not the whole damn world, you hick.

You think ignorance is bliss. Choosing not to be informed about the things and events that directly affect your life is just fucking stupid. Seriously - read a book, newspaper or magazine, why don't you.

You allow cognitive dissonance to control your opinions, even in the face of overwhelming evidence. Seriously. If this is the road you're going to choose, then just be honest about it, stick your fingers in your ears and start singing LALALA. Because it's exactly the same thing.

If you serve your self-interest to the detriment of every other factor in your life, then guess what? You're probably amoral, possibly a sociopath.

You use your tribalism to excuse your cheating, lying and hurting others, because after all, the injured party isn't your friend/family member/race/creed/gender. Plus, the lying, cheating and hurting get you what you want, so there's that.

You'll do anything to ensure you're the center of attention, whether that attention is good or bad, and even if your manipulations ensure damage to others. In some circles, this is called being "high maintenance." I call it being a "selfish bitch."

You expect others to keep your secrets, even if doing so is damaging to them and their relationships.

You reward generosity in others with betrayal. After you get what you want, of course.

You see others only for what you can get from them, for what you can use them for, and for how they can serve your emotional needs.

I've been feeling a bit emotionally raw this last week, which is probably why I'm being so cynical and judgmental. But I'm not sure I care, really - if you're the kind of person who thinks or behaves in the ways described above, what you think about me is really the last thing I'm going to worry about.

By the way, it took me AGES to figure out how to make strawberry jam that actually set up rather than having it result in a soupy consistency that was good for pancakes but not much else. My labor is your benefit.

I don't really consider myself a vain woman. I've accepted my silvery hair with good grace. I'm working on reducing my extra poundage with the always effective "eat less, move more" strategy, and have accepted that doing so will probably be a life-long endeavor. I've accepted that I can't wear makeup every day due to my rosacea. I've resigned myself to wearing frumpy shoes in the short term to resolve my plantar fasciitis. These things are just the prices I'm currently paying for being middle aged, and since middle age has also brought me happiness, contentment, financial security, confidence and decent relationships, I'm thinking that's a pretty darn good trade.

And yet.

There is one thing I dislike about getting older, that I haven't been able to accept with good grace, and that's my glabellar scowl lines. For those of you who don't know what those are, don't feel bad - I didn't know what they were called either. Here's a photo of them from the Interwebs:

I tend to scowl when I concentrate, and have since I was a child. As a result, I have fairly deep lines between my brows that have become a bit more permanent than I like over the years. In general, wrinkles don't bother me that much. Rosacea notwithstanding, I have fairly decent skin, and while years of smoking has done its share of damage, I'm generally satisfied with how I'm aging. But THESE wrinkles - THESE wrinkles make me look like I'm angry all the time.

Now, I've been told that I'm a bit intimidating in my professional life. I'm sure that part of this is the natural result of working as a woman in a male dominated field my entire adult life, but there's also my natural inclination to beat stupid people with sticks. Either way, I don't need any help from my wrinkles in making people approach me with fear and trembling.

Plus there's the fact that I'm NOT angry all the time. Only when I encounter stupid people who need to be beat with a stick.

So I got a referral from my Hot Cousin (who is the purveyor of such knowledge in our family), and on Friday of last week I went off to visit the RN who is the keeper of the Botulism. She injected my forehead with neurotoxin and now, less than a week later, I no longer have glabellar scowl lines marring my pleasant visage.

I don't feel paralyzed, and I think there's still sufficient elasticity and animation in my face to make it look natural. I just don't look angry anymore.

Better living through Botulism. I'm satisfied, and I can't believe it took me so long to take the plunge.

This question has been preying on my mind. I think the only thing I'd never do for money, even millions, is kill someone. Being an assassin (killing strangers for pay) or killing people you know for gain is just not something I can ever envision myself doing for any reason. That's not to say that I can't envision myself taking someone else's life - as a member of the Armed Forces, this was something I gave a great deal of thought to, and reconciled within the context of my own morality. And there are other circumstances where I might find such an act moral and just - protecting my own life and the lives of those I love against an aggressor, for example, even though the event would probably result in the collapse of my psyche. But for money? Um, no. I just can't see it.

After that biggie, my imagination, being both horrific and prolific, provides all sorts of hideous examples where I might compromise my moral code for money. After all, NEVER EVER is a long, long time, and I have no way of knowing what circumstances I might find myself in. I can't imagine my physically hurting others for money, for example, but if doing so was required to save the life of someone I loved, would I answer the same way? I can't imagine conning innocents out of their life savings, but if doing so would pay for life-saving treatment for one of my kids? Who knows how I'd react in such a scenario? I can think of many HIGHLY IMPROBABLE AND HORRIFYING CIRCUMSTANCES just like that, which makes me hesitate to add to that list.

I'd like to think that I would do the right thing if I was faced with a moral conundrum involving money. I'm fairly confident that I'd never compromise my moral code for personal gain, i.e., do wrong by someone to line my own pockets. Greed really isn't something that motivates me as a general rule (says the privileged upper-middle class white girl), but maintaining the health and well-being of those I care for is a different matter.

Thanks for your question, yintan, and I'll put it to the peanut gallery, as well - what would you NEVER EVER do for money? Even if it were millions?

What is the Marine recruiter NOT telling my grandson that is swaying his decision away from the Navy?

And, perhaps more important, could you give your five top reasons why he should choose the Navy over the Marines?

(11 months to final commitment)

I have given him my best shot at why the Marines would not be a good fit, but I am clearly biased (mostly based on my interaction with Marines through my Interservice Honor Guard duties* when I was in the Air Force - not actual day to day exposure).

LucyinDisguise, this is a difficult question to answer, primarily because I don't know your Grandson, and I'm unsure why the Navy might be a better fit for him rather than the Marine Corps. But I'll share my thoughts, and you can take away what you will. Please note that these are my impressions only - I never served in the Marines, and so my thoughts are incomplete, at best.

I would have to say that the differences between the Navy and Marine Corps fall into several categories: mission, culture, and organization. The differences in mission are available all over the Internet, so I'll concentrate on culture and organization. Bear in mind, however, that I don't consider the Navy to be "better" than the Corps - they're just very, very different, in all aspects of their service.

The culture of the Navy and the culture of the Marine Corps are very different animals. The modern Navy is a technological wonder - almost every rate requires extensive technical training, and hundreds of hours of on-the-job training to achieve levels of proficiency that allow the sailors to fight effectively. Each mission segment is somewhat isolated, and only in rare cases do sailors who specialize in, say, Surface Warfare, learn and become proficient in Construction Battalion (SeaBees) operations. Each mission is carried out at the lower ranks without much regard for the other groups. People tend to identify themselves in terms of their community (such as Submarines, or Aviation) rather than as "Sailors" outside their communities.

While the Marine Corps is also specializing more and more, the bottom line for Marines is that they are, first and foremost, Marines. Whether they work in military intelligence, aviation, or Marine Expeditionary Forces, they're all Marines, and they wouldn't dream of identifying themselves as "MI" rather than as "Marines" to someone not of their community. As a service, the Marine Corps is the smallest, the most disciplined, and in their minds, the most exclusive of the branches of the U.S. Armed Forces. And that attitude is reflected in their culture. To them, all that matters is whether or not you're a good Marine.

There are advantages and disadvantages to the different cultural norms, of course. In the Navy, it's sometimes possible to live a life that does not wholly and completely revolve around the Navy, and to maintain an identity that isn't, at its core, being a sailor. That's not true for the Marine Corps. Marines are always Marines, no matter what, and no matter how long they've been out. If you're the kind of person who requires a certain amount of autonomy, of individualism, then the Corps is not going to be a comfortable home for you. However, if you're the kind of person who thrives and blossoms in an environment where there's lots of structure, where your inclusion in the fraternal cohort is the only thing that matters, then the Marines might suit.

One area where all the Armed Forces need work, but the Marine Corps ESPECIALLY needs work, is in the area of gender equality. Of all the services, the Corps is the most dependent on a warrior culture whose cornerstone is a macho, tough guy ethos. It's the reason they're so tight in their brotherhood, so inflexible in their commitment to never leave a Marine behind. I don't know how they can keep the latter without shitcanning the former, but I do know that the Corps is not necessarily a good career choice if you're a woman.

Organizationally, the Marines are also the leanest of the services. The ranks of their support personnel is the smallest on a per capita basis compared to the other services. This allows them to maintain their exclusivity, and their identify as, first and foremost, a fighting force. One of the reasons for this is that they depend on the Navy in large part for some of this support (including their military academy).

There are career choices that allow young service members to be a part of the Marines without actually joining them. The most obvious is that of Navy Hospital Corpsman. The Marines don't have corpsman of their own - they use the Navy's, and corpsmen who are accepted into that program, live, work and fight alongside the Marine units they're assigned to. The Navy SeaBees are also a subculture that more closely resemble the Marine experience than a generic sailor's.

LucyinDisguise, I guess the bottom line is, what does your Grandson hope to achieve by joining the service? Technical training? A sense of accomplishment? Fulfilling a desire to serve? College benefits? A career? What kind of person is he, and in what environment will he thrive? The answer to those questions will determine what service (if any) is right for him. I suspect the Marine recruiter is downplaying your Grandson's chances of being deployed into a war zone, which (if true), is just bullshit. If your Grandson joins the Marines, it's extremely likely that he'll end up in Iraq, Afghanistan, or some other shithole, trying hard not to get his ass shot off by some insurgent. That's a risk your Grandson has to be willing to accept before he signs up. On the other hand, if he chooses the Navy, it's extremely likely he'll end up on 6-9 month deployments on a Navy warship, living cheek to jowl with 200-5,000 of his closest friends. The military is not an easy life - in any context - and going in with your eyes open is best for everyone.

I know I have a number of former sailors and Marines that visit this space - I hope they'll throw their two cents in, as well. Thanks for your question, LucyinDisguise.

Today's Free Shit Friday offering is a First Edition in Excellent condition of Larry Niven's Playgrounds of the Mind. This is a collection of short stories set in a variety of universes, and is the sequel to N-Space.

Disclaimer: I haven't read this volume (with the exception of The Draco Tavern stories), so I can't in good conscience recommend the volume as a whole. It was another score at my Awesome, Awesome Library's used book area.

You know, I love the Hubble Space Telescope. Love, love, love. Its images have stunned me to silence, inspired me, and opened my eyes to the vastness of our universe. The repair missions have awed me with the abilities of our astronauts and those who support them. But it's nearing the end of its life, and its successor, the James Webb Space Telescope, is in danger of being defunded.

I'm not going to talk about the loss to the scientific community if the JWST is scrapped. There are plenty of scientists out there that are qualified to discuss that issue. What I will say is that if the government scraps the JWST, they will decrease the Awesome in the world:

Please contact your Senator and Representative to encourage them to save the JWST. Because increasing the awesome in the world matters.

Today's question comes from new blogger and fellow library supporter filelalaine, who asks,

Ahhh so many questions for such an interesting lady and since some were already asked, here's the rest: why knitting, how did that come about? what are the best and worst parts of a marriage? what do you like better, a son or a daughter, and why? if you could meet anyone in the world and ask them one question, who/what would it be?

I swear, these compound questions are going to be the death of me. Did you and Anne conspire, or something?
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I became interested in knitting when my Hot Daughter took a knitting class in high school and learned how to knit in the traditional way, i.e., with needles. She's pretty good, although she doesn't have much time for it these days. I, however, am not good. Knitting needles are a complete mystery to me, and although I've tried a number of times to learn how to knit or crochet with the appropriate implements, I just SUCK.

But there was hope - while at the local craft store, I discovered a new product - the knitting loom. Here was something I could do! So I bought all of the looms available, and learned how to use them. Knitting on a loom is not particular mentally challenging - there's not much counting, and I can do it while simultaneously doing any number of other things. It's also very quick - I can complete a hat in under two hours. This means, of course, that I'm very prolific, and that I go through a lot of yarn. Luckily the Longmont Senior Center's Knit and Purl Club donates yarn to me, and I donate finished pieces back to them. So it's all good.
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The best part of marriage is that I always have someone on my side, someone who knows me well and loves me anyway, and doesn't expect me to be other than what I am to suit his own purposes.

The worst part of marriage is that you can't always suit yourself. Because taking someone else's needs and desires into account is the price you have to pay for the best parts. And now that I've finally learned to make good decisions in this area, I can say unequivocally, it's totally worth it.
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You expect me to answer that question about what I like better, a son or a daughter? When I have one of each? Really? I gotta tell you, that'll happen right around the time monkeys fly out of my ass.
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As for meeting people and asking them questions, I think my musings have more to do with the nature of universe than with any specific individual. After all, public people typically leave some sort of written record of their lives and ideas, whether they're scientists, politicians, or artists. The universe, however, stubbornly refuses to leave a record that doesn't require interpretation by the best minds our species has to offer. So I guess my question is, "Does the Multiverse really exist?" Because really, how fucking awesome would it be if 1) the Multiverse does exist, and 2) we could move between universes? FUCKING AWESOME. WITH AWESOME SAUCE.
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What are your top five/ten favorite movies (or, if you prefer, TV series) and why?

How did you get started on the jam-making (the making jam for others, I mean)?

Did you have a pet before Boogie?

Would you go into space if you had the opportunity?

Let's just take these in order.
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Nowadays, I consider movies and TV series to be almost the same genre, mostly because original programing produced by the premium channels is far superior to anything previously offered on television, and in fact, is far superior to most POS movies offered in theaters. So here they are:

The Wire. Simply the best thing every produced in the medium.

Dexter. How Michael C. Hall manages to make me empathize with a serial killer is beyond me, but it's indicative of his skill - and the skill of the writers. Bonus: John Lithgow is the creepiest bad guy EVAH.

Breaking Bad. Watching the moral death spiral of Walt, the main character, is fascinating in a "I can't look away from this train wreck" kind of way.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel. Because I'm twelve.

Band of Brothers. Easy Company's experiences in the European Theater make me grateful to be human.

Second Hand Lions. If there's a better cast in the world than Michael Kane, Robert Duvall and Haley Joel Osment, I don't know what it would be. Bonus: Christian Kane.

Oz. Just as Band of Brothers gives me a glimpse of the very best of being human, this one gives me a glimpse of the very worse. But I can only watch one episode of this series at a time, because it tends to give me nightmares.

Sons of Anarchy. The entire series is like a sociological study in moral ambiguity. Bonus: Katy Segal.

Othello. The Kenneth Branagh version, not the one where Othello is played by a white dude. This movie brought Shakespeare to life for me.

I started making jam as a way to create lower cost Christmas gifts for friends and family. I'd make jam and breads, and then make gift baskets including ornaments and such. I stopped doing that when it started feeling like a chore rather than a pleasure, but I still like to make the jam. Mostly I give it away because I don't like it (except for apple butter), and there's only so much jam my family can eat. The unclaimed jars go to the retirement home where my Gram lived her last years.
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Boogie is my first mammal pet as an adult. Growing up, we had horses, a dog and a barn cat. My transient lifestyle (and poorness) prevented me from owning pets that required a lot of care before now.
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The "going into space" question is a bit more complex than I first thought, and the answer is, "it depends." Is it a one-way trip, say to Mars or to settle another Class M Planet? Would I be able to communicate with my family, even if I never got to see them again? Is FTL available, or is everyone I care about going to die while I'm gone because of relativistic speeds? What's the risk to me personally? What is my purpose in going?

I guess the bottom line is that if the opportunity had presented itself when I was younger and the ties that bound me to this earth were a bit more tenuous, I suspect that yes, I would have gone, even if it was a one way trip. Now? Probably not, unless there was a return trip, or I could bring those I care for with me.
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Back when I was doing the necessary work to change my life, I discovered a number of things about myself that helped me to determine how best to cultivate the life I needed and wanted to be happy. Here's a short (not all inclusive) list:

I need to spend a considerable portion of my time by myself. Without the opportunity to do so, I become cranky and snappish.

I don't like to talk on the phone. For whatever reason, it's extremely irritating to me, although I'm fine with more asynchronous forms of technologically based communication such as text, e:mail and chat.

For the most part, I am a low maintenance friend. I can go weeks without communicating with my Sista from Anotha Mista The Mechanicky Gal, but that doesn't mean I don't love her - and it also doesn't mean I wouldn't be on the first flight to Southern California if she needed me. And I need my friends to be low maintenance for the most part, as well.

I place tremendous value on helping others, including those whom I love and complete strangers. But one thing that will drive me right over the edge is if someone has some sort of unjustifiable expectation that I help them. I choose to commit my help to others for my own reasons, and it's my choice. I don't owe people anything simply because they have an opinion that I should.* Taking my help for granted is a sure way to earn yourself a punch in the throat, regardless of who you are.

As much as I enjoy social events, they must be spread out. Back-to-back-to-back commitments increases my stress, even if the events are fun and include people I care for and enjoy.

When I over-commit, either socially or professionally, I end up feeling bad, stretched thin, overwhelmed. My depression creeps back, and I find I simply don't enjoy the outings as much as I might if I felt better. Which brings us to my decision to cultivate that slow, deliberate lifestyle Jeri asked about.

When I was finding my way, I had to decide that saying "no" to event invitations, to requests for help, to phone conversations, was perfectly okay. And if the reason for declining was "I don't want to," then that was a good enough reason, regardless of what others' thought. If I received an invitation to a social event, I would examine my feelings to determine which I REALLY wanted to do - go on the outing, or stay home and read. And if the answer was the latter, I had to learn to say NO - and mean it, and expect my friends and family to understand. If someone asked me for help, and I decided I had no obligation to do so, I had to learn to say NO, and not feel guilty about it. Because to allow myself to be pressured into doing things I really don't want to do for the benefit of others is not conducive to my mental or physical health.

It took me a long time to learn to say "no" for my own benefit. I could always be pressured or guilted into changing my mind, and learning that my own needs and desires don't always have to be subordinated to the needs and desires of others was a tough lesson. But it was a lesson I needed to learn - to do otherwise would have condemned me to a life of stress, and feeling taken advantage of, and not having enough time to do the things I knew I needed to do for my own benefit, such as exercise.

There are trade-offs, of course. Many people don't understand my need to decline their invitations, and take it personally. I occasionally miss out on opportunities to socialize because I need to spend the weekend in hermit mode. Sometimes I choose to say "no" to people who genuinely need my help. But that's the trade-off - I can have a low stress, healthy life, or I can be a social butterfly. I've learned that for me, having both just isn't realistic. So I chose to put my own mental and physical health first. And those whom I love understand this about me, because they're low-maintenance, and know me well enough to know that in this case, it really is me and not them.

Thanks for your question, Jeri.

_______________
*Which doesn't mean people shouldn't ask if they need something from me - far from it. But it does mean that if I say "no," that's the final word. Trying to get me to change my mind is a sure way to piss me off and ensure I'll never help you again.

What are the best and worst parts of living in Colorado? What advice would you give to someone considering a trip there versus someone planning a move? Why yes, I am something of a travel geek.

I grew up here in Colorado, and then left for twelve years for warmer parts of the country. I've been back for fifteen years, and yet I'm still wracking my brain to figure out how to answer your question.

I guess the best indicator as to whether or not someone would enjoy living in or visiting Colorado is to answer a simple question: Do you enjoy being outdoors? If the answer is "yes," then pack your bags - you're going to love it here. If the answer is "no," then make plans for some other locale.

Most of the activities that keep people entertained here are based in the great outdoors. In the winter, there's skiing, snowboarding, snowshoeing, sledding, tubing, snowmobiling, and dog-sledding. In the summer, there's hiking, camping, trail riding, hunting, fishing, whitewater rafting, kayaking, canoeing, climbing, golf, cycling.

If you don't like to be outdoors, the pickings are bit slimmer. Don't get me wrong - there are regional attractions such as the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, the Denver Center for the Performing Arts, the Denver Art Museum, mountain casinos, music festivals, and professional sports in the areas of football, baseball, basketball, hockey, lacrosse and soccer. But Denver's heritage is one of a cow town, and it shows. The big draw here is BEING OUTSIDE - there are 300 sunny days a year here, and the landscape of the place pretty much guarantees an active, athletic population. If you're the kind of person who really likes to be inside, who thrives only on cultural events, then Denver and surrounds probably isn't the right place for you.

The local communities do make an effort, though. There are local performing arts and cultural events centers in most areas that draw some decent shows. In fact, there's one opening this fall two blocks from the Big Yellow House, and we're really looking forward to seeing the Vienna Boys Choir and other high quality acts there.

As for living here, I'd say the cost of living is a bit high - about 103 on a comparative scale. That's nothing compared to New York City or San Francisco, of course (167 and 207, respectively), but it's high enough. The median asking price for a home in Denver is $274,900.00, and the median household income is $56,993.00. Unemployment is currently at 8.8%. Culturally, I have to say it's kind of...white. 81.3% white, in fact, according to the 2010 census. That makes the place a bit homogeneous for my preference, but the Latino population is increasing steadily, which will help in the long term.

Overall, I have to say that the reason I continue to live here doesn't really have anything to do with Colorado as a place, but everything to do with who else lives here. My very large, very strange family is here, including my Hot Daughter, my Hot Mom, and various and sundry other folks, and I spent enough time away from an extended support system that I'm not really interested in doing so again. Given my druthers and unlimited funds, I would probably move someplace where the weather was a bit more mild, and the cultural events were a bit more dense. But my family didn't settle in San Francisco, so here I am.

Thanks for your question, anissa_roy, and feel free to ask more specific questions in the comments if I missed something you wanted me to cover.

...of the large Coach bag is Mrs. B, with a random number of 9. Mrs. B., please send your snail mail address to hotchicksdigsmartmen _at_ comcast _dot_ net, and I'll get around to sending it along when the cows come home. Mooo!

Today's Free Shit Friday offering is a large Coach bag.* And I do mean BIG. It's fourteen inches wide, six inches deep, and ten inches tall. I like this bag, and it's in good shape, but the thing with large bags and me is that it's sort of like a Field of Dreams dynamic - if the bag has space, the junk will come. I will fill it up until the damn thing weighs in at 30 pounds, which is not conducive to the health of my back. I used to carry a hammer in my purse, if that's any indication.

So off it will go, into the Ether, to find a home where someone will love it and hug it, and pet it, and call it George.

___________*This is a Hot Chicks Dig Smart Men/Mechanicky Gal joint. This bag originally belonged to Sista From Anotha Mista The Mechanicky Gal, who gave it to me. I used it for a bit, then the last time she came out for a visit she thought she might like to have it back. But the bottom line is that it's just too big and heavy for either of us, although I have to admit it's a good choice for travel.

About Me

I am a Hot Chick living in Castle Rock, CO with my fabulous family. We have a rescue dog named "Jackson," and she's a Basenji/Shepherd mix. She's something of a head case, but we love her. I'm a U.S. Navy vet, and I currently work as an Enterprise Solutions Architect, specializing in VoIP and multimedia contact center design. I care about social justice, libraries, science, the U.S. Constitution and the military. I serve as a Director on our local library's Foundation Board. I'm a tax and spend liberal in a largely red county, but I try not to be stabby about it. I aspire to run faster than I do, and I donate knitted cold weather gear to various charities. Stupidity, cupidity and wanton assholery piss me off, and I'm more than a little soft when it comes to dogs and those who serve others. I blog about whatever I feel like. I use foul language, so if that sort of thing offends you, feel free to fuck off now - if I'm unwilling to clean up my language for my fabulous Great Auntie Margie, I'm unlikely to do so for you. Newcomers are welcome here, especially those who disagree with me, but trolling and spamming will be met with the Shovel of Doom™.